Legend of Malachai
by Khrissa
Summary: Christine returns to Gatlin to find out why she and her mother fled so many years ago...she meets up with Sarah and Job who have come back for vengence of their parents' death...but someone has been waiting for them...and has plans for Christine...
1. Default Chapter

Hello, everyone! I am new to being an author here, but have been a long- time reader. I have to say that all of the COTC stories that I have read are great! I love Children of the Corn, especially Malachai...hence, here is how I would continue with the anthology that is COTC. Of course, as is mentioned in all stories, I do not own Malachai, Isaac, Sarah, Job, or any of the other original characters from the movie; they are all owned by the wonderful and talented Stephen King and the screenplay writer, George Goldsmith. I do own Christine and any other character that I decide to introduce in further chapters. Thanks for reading and please be kind and review!  
  
Christine drove into the one-stoplight town not expecting much.except maybe some answers.or at least some clues. On the right was a long abandoned gas station and on the left, acres and acres of corn. Christine squinted against the late morning sun. Ahead was Main Street, or at least what had been main street at one time. Of course the town was as rundown and abandoned as the gas station she had passed. Christine parked in front of the old post office. A rusted newspaper vending machine stood in front of it. A tattered and yellow newspaper pressed up against its glass. Christine approached it and looked at it more closely. Gatlin Centennial, September 6, 1984. Yes, this was one clue that she had needed.  
  
Christine and her mother had fled Gatlin when she was only 4 years old. She didn't remember much. Her mother refused to speak of that past like even saying the name of the town would poison her tongue. She refused to speak of the father that Christine barely knew.all she had were memories.  
  
Christine turned away from the vending machine for a moment and looked across the street. Hansen's. She remembered that place. Her mother had taken her there on Sundays after the mass in the cornfield. Christine always told her grandmother that she was a lucky girl because she got to attend church twice on Sundays. Her grandmother would frown at this.she never knew why but her mother would always change the subject at that time. A tear formed in her left blue eye at this thought. She had been at the house the day her grandmother had been murdered.  
  
Christine looked back to the newspaper. Drought to cause loss in corn crop this year - Farmers expect small harvest. More memories flooding back. She was surprised how easily they came. A boy in a dark minister's suit speaking in the cornfield. Preaching about the evil that had befallen the corn. The drought. Something to do with the drought. Christine tried to remember more but could not.  
  
She looked back over at Hansen's. Curiosity pulled her there. It was here that one of the strongest memories came flooding back to her. Her mother had had her baptized at the only church in Gatlin, Grace Baptist Church. The scary boy with the long red hair had found out about it and had confronted her mother angrily in front of this café one evening. Christine remembered the boy's name now. Malachai. Christine's mother had told Malachai that they would run away if Isaac found out about it. Isaac must have been the preacher boy. It had been shortly after that incident that they had fled.  
  
She looked again to Hansen's. Something was pulling her there. She started to walk across the street without even realizing it. The wooden and glass door was warped and dusty. Christine noticed that the glass was scratched into a pattern. She peered closer. In jagged, child-like script were the words 'HE WHO WALKS BEHIND THE ROWS'. The words sent chills down her spine. She took a step back from the door and let out a ragged breath. She didn't know who 'He' was, but she had a feeling she didn't want to know. Then she told herself she was just being self conscience and above all, plain silly.  
  
The wind picked up just then and made her look down the street. The warm air made her cough and close her eyes. When she opened her eyes she noticed that the shadows were getting longer and she decided it was now or never. She took a deep breath and moved again to the door. She pushed it open with a faint creak.the smell of mildew and grease met her immediately. She stepped up into the entryway. It was dim but she could still make out the dust and deterioration of the once quaint café. She walked slowly across the floor to the counter. Bang! Christine whirled around at the sound and jumped at the same time. She thought she had seen someone. 'That's impossible.', she told herself. But in her mind's eye she knew she had seen the morning sun glimmering on copper hair outside of the dirty window. The bang had been the door in the now even stronger wind.she hadn't closed it all the way. The door stood open, the doorknob clanging noisily against the building in the wind. Curiosity pulled her to the doorway. She looked both ways down the street but saw no one. The wind made her duck back inside. A wind storm was starting up and she decided to stay here until it was over.  
  
Christine sat down in one of the booths. The chipped and worn tabletop was stained with coffee and something darker. She shrank out of the booth immediately when she realized what it was. Blood. She started to feel dizzy and didn't even know why. She sat down instead on one of the stools...and soon slid off to the floor. She laid her head down on it and closed her eyes. 'Too much...too soon...when I wake up, I'll try to find that person I saw....or thought I saw....', Christine drifted into sleep and her sudden drained energy welcomed it.  
  
Oh what a beginning! When Christine wakes up, what will she find? Who is stalking her? Remember to review! 


	2. Stand By Me

~ Ok, guys here it is....*bows*....my latest.....~ Just kidding...but really...here it is...no, really...look....read....enjoy....review.....  
  
'Jimmy crack corn and I don't care....Jimmy crack corn and I don't care....', the sing-song and high sweet laughter of children came to Christine awoke and faded as she sat up slowly. Wincing, she got to her feet and noticed that the front door still stood open, but the wind had died down to a breeze. She also noticed that what looked like muddy footprints came in through it, stopped at her, and retreated, but judging from the smell, it wasn't entirely mud.  
  
Christine turned around slowly, on instinct...and looked further back into the cafe. She walked slowly over to the pinball machine. A broken, dirty jukebox was propped sideways next to it. She touched the top of the pinball machine softly. An electric shock coursed through her and she pulled back from it and at the same time the jukebox came to life. She looked at it in fright. "It can't be...", she whispered under her breath. A quiet, rambling version of "Stand By Me" began to fill the air. The jukebox glowed softly in and out against the dim interior of the far wall. Suddenly, there was the laughter of children again. Christine looked back to the jukebox, but her attention was soon diverted. The front door had sounded like it had shut and closed, but no one was there.  
  
She moved backwards, closer to the jukebox, further away from the door. Soft cloth and a person's body stopped her before she ran directly into it. She stifled a scream and turned toward the cause her alarm slowly. A faded, dark colored plaid work shirt and suspenders met her gaze. She raised her eyes, almost ashamedly...her stomach sinking as they did. She then met the gaze of a man in his 30's, shoulder-length red hair, and dark brown eyes. He half-smiled...his lips like that of a demon's slumber. Christine distrusted him immediately and the feeling in her stomach only worsened. His eyes held hers for a few more seconds and then looked past her at the jukebox. She knew deep down that she should know who this person was, but could not remember, and she couldn't bring herself to ask. Where had she seen this face before? Before she could gather the courage to inquire, he had taken her hand. She looked at him, startled.  
  
"I can't believe this old thing still works...it isn't normally something that I would normally approve of, but since you are new to town...would you....care to dance?", he asked her. Christine couldn't tell if it was an act or not, but he seemed to be shy about what he had said. She felt herself nodding before even realizing it. The man smiled and pulled her to the middle of the floor. The song seemed to grow a little louder. "So darlin', darlin'...stand by me...ohh..stand by me....' The man was gentle, leading her slowly. She looked up at him and saw that he was watching her. The smile still played on his lips. His eyes locked with hers. Christine wondered back to what he had said. Something about not usually approving of this...approving of what?, she wondered, dancing?  
  
The song finally ended and he let her go. The jukebox died with the song. She felt herself shiver at this...something was wrong here....really wrong. The man moved away from her and sat on one of the stools. She looked at him uneasily. "I knew it wouldn't last. It's for the best, really. I saw your car across the street. There aren't many people around these parts and if you plan on staying, there is only about one place you can really go. It's a little outside of town. A nice, big white house with a porch that wraps about half-way around. Nobody lives there anymore, but it probably has a free bed." He said lowly. He was looking at the floor as he spoke. She nodded again. "Why aren't there many other people around?" she asked just as low. He looked up, but turned toward the picture window. "If you trust me enough, you can go to the house now and rest. If you want answers to your questions, meet me in front of this place tonight. I'll be happy to fill you in." he said and got up, walking towards the door. He looked back at her once, the smile never leaving his lips, and then went out the door. Christine looked after him in awe. It was odd how he spoke. She wondered what he meant by the things he said, but she knew that she would meet with him tonight. He looked like he had been around here for awhile, or at least knew the history. Something was trying to warn her though. Something deep inside was telling her to just get in her car and leave as fast as she could without ever looking back, physically or mentally. The man gave her the creeps and butterflies at the same time. But she had to know. The questions of why would drive her crazy if she didn't find out.  
  
Christine looked at the jukebox and pinball machine one last time and then moved to the door. Afternoon sun now played on the sidewalk courtesy of the trees nearby. She looked across the street at her car. It had been completely sabotaged! Corn stalks and leaves were sticking out of every nook and cranny imaginable. The hood had been raised and stuffed inside was more corn. She ran across the street and stopped feet from her car. "Oh my god!" she gasped in shock. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. Boy, people around here sure were friendly. Well...she could walk to the house and pray for a phone. She started towards the southeast corner of town, not knowing why she knew the house the man had spoke of.  
  
All for now, kiddies....hehe....will continue soon...promise! R & R, please...and you know who you are! 


	3. Can't Stop The Sun

Starting with this chapter and thereafter, I am going to start out with a short song that has to do with that chapter. If you read chapter 2, you saw that I used Stand by Me in it, but not as an actual beginning...as you read the chapter, see how the song relates to it. Of course I do not own rights to any of the songs I use. I hope you like it!  
  
Tom Petty Can't Stop The Sun The Last DJ  
  
and you may think you control things but there'll be more just like me who won't give in who'll rise again can't stop this world from turning 'round and 'round and 'round  
  
and you may think it's all over but there'll be more just like me who won't give in who'll rise again can't stop a man from dreaming on and on and on  
  
"Job, I know exactly where it is." Sarah said impatiently. Job sighed. "I know you do." He answered.  
  
Although they had left Gatlin about 15 years ago, Sarah sometimes was still plagued by flashes of things that happened there. When Vicky and Burt had rescued them, they sent both of them to a child psychiatrist who, of course, thought their tales of 'He Who Walks Behind The Rows' was crazy at best.  
  
Sarah had continued to draw pictures until she was in middle school. Then she had painted and now her hobby was becoming a career. Sarah painted portraits of landscapes that could rival Thomas Kinkade. Job had just started college and worked as an intern at Burt's clinic.  
  
"I wonder if anyone is even around anymore. What if He came back?" Sarah said, but to Job her voice was far away. "Huh? What?", he asked and glanced at her. Sarah, obviously annoyed, "I said, I wonder if anyone is around anymore. Maybe He came back or they rebuilt the town." Job's face hardened. "We killed Him, you know that." Sarah interrupted him by holding up a magazine with a picture of a hand-drawn cross made of corn and a transparent depiction of children in the background. The major headline read "An Unusual Walk in the Country by Brad Garrett". Job held on to the steering wheel with one hand and grabbed the magazine away from her with the other, flinging it in the backseat. "That's just a rag report....I'll bet Gatlin is as dried up as we left it, but if it's not...." Job trailed off not knowing how to finish but Sarah understood.  
  
Sarah looked out the passenger window worriedly. It was nearing summer's end and the corn on either side of the road was already a withering yellow. 'Oh no....oh no...', her mind whispered, 'It is happening...or it's just getting started....' She looked back to Job who was trying not to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "I sense it though, Jobby....I do. Someone is there. Two people actually. I can't describe them, but it is a man and a girl about my age. I don't like the feeling I am getting about them." Sarah spoke softly and slowly, knowing her words were upsetting her brother. They came upon a road sign that read: GATLIN 3 Miles.  
  
A shiver ran down Sarah's spine and a bad sensation crept into her stomach. "Well, I guess we will soon see about that." Job said with an obvious infliction of fear in his voice.  
  
Christine came upon the now weather-beaten and paint peeling house. She knew this house. She had come here to play with a little boy and girl when she was a child. Then her mother had told her she couldn't play with them anymore because they weren't like them. Whatever that meant. Christine climbed the steps of the house. They creaked so bad that she thought she was going to fall through them. She approached the door and rapped softly. The man had told her that no one lived here, but she couldn't bring herself to just walk into a strange house. She waited for a moment but there was no answer. She pushed the door open. "Hello? Anyone here?", she called out. No one replied. Carefully, she entered and looked around. The interior of the house was almost in worse shape than the exterior. Someone had left very abruptly....and apparently had never been back. There was dust everywhere and she could see the dining room from where she stood. The dining room table had been prepared for a meal, but there was no food around.  
  
She thought she remembered a bathroom on the second floor and started to climb the staircase in front of her. She did want to freshen up, if there was running water she would be lucky. She walked slowly down the short hallway and saw the bathroom in the second room to the left. She turned on the faucet and water ran smoothly out of it. Christine watched the stream curiously. 'How odd is that?...,'she thought, 'The water runs perfectly although the house has obviously not been inhabited for the longest time.' She splashed her face and neck, rubbing the excess water away with her hands. God, something was so wrong...so bad...about this place. But she still had to know. It was like getting a shot...it hurt...it was scary...but if you didn't get it over with, you might have to suffer the consequences.  
  
She had already suffered enough and deserved the truth. She wiped her hands on her jeans and walked back to the stairway landing. The ray of sunlight had shortened on the floor below and she knew it was now or never. She started down the stairs and hesitated at the door. She watched the cornfield across the lawn. It danced and whispered. It laughed. It mocked her almost. Determined, she opened the door, and before she could change her mind, was running into the cornfield to find the red-haired man who would tell her everything she wanted to know.  
  
Just as Christine entered the cornfield, a car pulled up into the driveway of the house........ 


	4. What Lies Ahead

Can't Buy Me Love The Beatles 1  
  
I'll buy you diamond rings my friend if it makes you feel all right I'll get you anything my friend if it makes you feel all right 'cause I don't care too much for money money can't buy me love  
  
I'll give you all I've got to give if you say you love me too I may not have a lot to give but what I've got I'll give to you 'cause I don't care too much for money money can't buy me love  
  
can't buy me love everybody tells me so can't buy me love no, no, no no, no, no say you don't need no diamond rings and I'll be satisfied say you want the kind of things that money just can't buy 'cause I don't care too much for money money can't buy me love  
  
Christine met him in front of the cafe as he had promised. He was leaning against the decaying building looking indifferently down the street in the opposite direction. She wasn't sure why, but she found herself smiling slightly as she neared him. The late afternoon light was playing on his copper hair and there seemed to be an air of superiority about him that she secretly liked. She still wasn't very close to him when she saw that he reacted as if he had heard her coming. He turned his head in her direction but his body language did not change. Instinct crawled in her belly and it didn't like what it found. Was his hearing so good that it could be humanly possible that he had heard her...or was it something else? She pushed this troubling question away from her mind like someone who turned their head during a particularly violent part of a movie...not wanting to accept it and rejecting it as quickly as possible.  
  
A slow thoughtful smirk played on his lips as she approached and he immediately stood up straight. "I almost thought you weren't going to show. I'm glad you did." he regarded her as she stopped a foot from him. "What is with the house you sent me to?", she asked, "It looks like it was just...I don't know...abandoned. I used to play with some kids that used to live there....What happened to them?" As soon as the words about the kids left her lips, he was looking at her differently. A sort of nostalgia had filled his eyes. Also, had that been a flicker of anger? He looked away then for a moment as if debating about telling her. He sighed softly and then looked again at her. "I thought you looked familiar. I know what happened at the house, but I can't exactly explain it to you...I have to show you." he said and stopped when he saw her face change with hesitancy, "I won't hurt you I promise. I've lived here almost all of my life and would be the best one to explain what happened everywhere in the town.", he continued almost hurriedly.  
  
She felt her face color at his modest tone. Such a contrast to the solidity in his stance she had witnessed only moments before. Christine didn't know why, but she trusted him. She stared at the sidewalk and finally looked up at him. She smiled at him. "Okay...okay...but we better do it now because I want to get a good night's sleep so I can leave right away in the morning. No offense, but this place gives me the creeps." she replied. He nodded warmly. "Okay then. The first thing I want to show you are the railroad tracks. Do you know what time it is?" he asked. She pulled up the sleeve of her white cashmere cardigan to reveal a gold watch. It read exactly 5 p.m. She looked up quickly and caught a trace of retribution expression on his face. He had been studying her watch. She quickly pulled her sleeve down and met his gaze. The smirk returned. "It's five o'clock. Is there a train that comes through or something?" she asked uneasily. Why had he been looking at her watch? Was he going to rob her once he got her there? "No," he answered and turned away from her, "Come.", he said commandingly. He started down the sidewalk and she stood still for a moment fermenting about his demand and yet feeling as if she had no choice since everything seemed closed and no one else was around.  
  
She started to chase after him. "Hey wait....wait....I'm coming." she called. He kept walking, ignoring her. She caught up to him and walked at his side. He didn't look at her and remained silent. She felt inferior to him for some reason but soon realized why. She had noticed unconsciously the strange belt around his waist. It was extremely old leather rawhide. And at the right side of his hips was a sheath connected to the belt...and in the sheath was a buck knife. It sent chills down her spine even though there was no reason for it to. She figured a lot of small town men carried such in-case equipment. It also caused a flash of déja vú move swiftly through her mind even though it lasted long enough to give her goosebumps. She had seen the belt before. And it had been in this town. A boy that had lived here had worn one like it. She tried to shift her vision upwards to the face but the feeling washed away before she could. Was it him? God, she was getting paranoid.  
  
Christine kept stride with him as he led her to the side of town where she had come in. The railroad tracks were grown over with weeds and the rails themselves were as rusted as a bicycle left in the rain. The man stopped before them. She looked to him questioningly. On the other side of the tracks was a drop-off to a vast lake below. He walked over the tracks and balanced on the second rail, looking out over the water. She cam beside him again and watched his face. Finally, he spoke. "You trusted me enough to meet me, you trusted me enough to follow me here, now you must trust what I am about to ask of you.", he looked at her then. She nodded hypnotically. His gaze fell to her wrist. She, too, lowered her head. "To understand what I am going to tell you, you must let go of a worldly possession. I think your watch would suffice," his low voice came to her ears, "Cast it into the lake...go ahead now." She looked at her watch. It had been her grandmother's. "I can't..." she said but before she could finish, he had turned toward her. His eyes were hard and cold. She flinched from it. "Then I can't make you understand." he whispered harshly. He turned and began to walk back towards town. Something stirred inside her and she began to understand at least this much...the town's desecration must have had something to do with religion...his words about worldly possessions echoed in her endlessly questioning mind....maybe it was still going on. Maybe that was why the town had seemed so deserted. This man had decided to let her in on the behind-the-scenes secrets and now she was betraying him in sorts. But could she really just throw her grandmother's watch away?  
  
The man was about twenty feet from her now. Her eyes followed him in deliberation. She hadn't come all of this way to come out empty handed and he seemed to be her only hope. Christine swallowed hard. She knew it was now or never. It wasn't like he had asked her for her watch. He wanted her to get rid of it. And there was always some sort of price to pay when you gained something. And she needed to gain this information badly.  
  
"Hey, wait...", she called out. The man stopped but did not turn around. She looked at the watch one last time. "I'll do it." she whispered. Christine could not see, but sensed, the smile crossing his face. He turned around and walked slowly back to her. He watched her closely as she took off the watch. Her eyes threatened to well up with tears but she was damned if she would let this complete stranger in on all the pain she felt at the moment. He urged her gently. "You will feel at peace when it is done." he said.  
  
(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((  
  
"It doesn't look like anyone has been here for ages and yet the place hasn't changed." Job said amazed. They both got out of the car and surveyed the house. Sarah's eyes fell on the steps leading to the porch. "Someone has been here. I can't see who though." Sarah said speaking of her gift. Job came closer to the steps. There were faint footprints in the dried mud and dirt on them. "Before we go into the house, let's go back into town and see if we can find anyone. It looks like whoever was here has come and gone." Job said. Sarah closed her eyes and after a few seconds, opened them. "Yes, whoever it was is gone. But I have an even stranger feeling now. There are more than the man and girl. There are children. And other adults. Maybe the town has been rebuilding." Sarah smiled as she said this. Job was looking at the cornfield..."Don't get your hopes up about that." They got back into the car.  
  
"Where are you going?" Sarah asked. "I don't know, downtown maybe. Do you see anything, anyone?" Job asked as he started back into town. Sarah closed her eyes again. She shook her head. "Someone is by the lake but I can't even make out if it is the man and girl or some other people. I thought coming back here would make my visions stronger, but I guess not." Job drove towards the lake on the outskirts of the other side of town. He stopped abruptly. Sarah almost flew into the dashboard. She looked over at him angrily. "What are you doing?" she demanded. She brushed the long blond hair from her face. Job didn't look back at her. Something else had seized his attention. About a half a mile away were a man and a girl about Sarah's age. "Look." Job whispered. Sarah followed his gaze and gasped. Even from this distance, the man's profile was clear.  
  
"It can't be..." she groaned. The man was tall and lanky with long, flowing red hair.  
  
"Malachai...." Job finished in awe and fear.  
  
Okay all, hope you have enjoyed and review...pretty please=) Anyone who reviews will receive reply, but please, no flames...I haven't done anything that deserves burning on the lake of fire for all eternety...laters. 


	5. Naive

Hey everybody, sorry it has been so long since I have updated, but writer's block really sucks. As of lately though, all of the new COTC fics have really inspired me to get my butt back to work on this one. So for all of you who have read, reviewed, and urged me forward...this is for you. Apologizies in advance for this being so short.

RAIN ON THE SCARECROW

John Mellencamp

Scarecrow on a wooden cross

Blackbird in the barn

Four hundred empty acres

That used to be my farm

I grew up like my daddy did

My grandpa cleared this land

When I was five, I walked the fence

While grandpa held my hand

Rain on the scarecrow

Blood on the plow

This land fed a nation

This land made me proud

And son, I'm sorry there's no legacy for you now

Rain on the scarecrow

Blood on the plow

Rain on the scarecrow

Blood on the plow

The crops we grew last summer

Weren't enough to pay the loans

Couldn't buy the seed to plant this spring

and the farmers bank foreclosed

Called my old friend Schepman up

to auction off the land

He said John, it's just my job

and I hope you understand

Hey calling it your job ol' hoss

sure don't make it right

But if you want me to

I'll say a prayer for your soul tonight

And grandma's on the front porch swing

with a bible in her hand

Sometimes I hear her singing

"Take me to the promised land"

When you take away a man's dignity

He can't work his fields and cows

There'll be blood on the scarecrow

Blood on the plow

Blood on the scarecrow

Blood on the plow

Well there's ninety-seven crosses

Planted in the courthouse yard

Ninety-seven families

who lost ninety-seven farms

I think about my grandpa and my neighbors and my name

And some nights I feel like dyin'

Like that scarecrow in the rain

Rain on the scarecrow

Blood on the plow

This land fed a nation

This land made me proud

And son I'm sorry

there's just memories for you now

Rain on the scarecrow

Blood on the plow

Rain on the scarecrow

Blood on the plow

There was a long silence. "I...I...How?", Sarah asked finally, exasperated. She peered closer towards the windshield for a closer look. Job pulled her back roughly, protectively, and looked at her sternly. "I don't know how. Do you want them to see us?" He let out a slow breath and turned his attention back to the awful vision in front of them. Sarah was shaking her head in disbelief. "But Isaac killed him...", she stopped in mid-sentence and looked at her brother with dread, "What if Isaac is still alive? What if...?" Job looked back at her trying not to show his dismay. "It's possible. Right now, I guess I'd believe anything...but we better get out of here and get rid of the car for now somehow. We can go back to the house for awhile." Job slowly put the car in reverse and started to back out onto the main road.

Malachai had noticed the intruders, but said nothing to the girl. They had not interrupted now, so he would deal with them later. He turned back to the now weeping girl. His limited patience would not allow him to feel any compassion towards her and her tears were starting to make his stomach turn. Under any other circumstances, he might have struck her. But much like her need to gain answers to her questions, he needed to gain her trust if she was going to fullfill her purpose.

He came to her side and watched her face. She had already slipped off the watch and was turning it over in her hands, staring out at the water, tears sliding down her cheeks silently. He took her hand and held it out over the drop-off. She looked at him with hesitation. Malachai nodded and gently forced her fingers open. Christine gasped without realization as the watch plummeted to the water's surface and submerged. The shallow splash echoed in her ears.

He released her hand. It was done. The first step to bringing her back into the fold. He hid a smile at this thought. She didn't seem to have the slightest inkling that she was in danger and he wanted it kept that way--until it was too late--and then she would have no choice--she would have his son. The very reason why he had tried to stop she and her mother from fleeing. The very reason he had been tempted to sacrifice her mother to He Who Walks Behind The Rows after he had learned about her baptism at the false church. It won't matter for much longer, he thought, she will learn she cannot escape her destiny.

"Did you say something about...about the sun?", Christine asked in a timid voice. Malachai looked directly at her, startled out of his thoughts. She watched him carefully. He looked disheveled, almost as much as herself. His eyes narrowed and he looked at her hard.

"Come...there are some people I want you to meet." Malachai said, avoiding her question. Christine looked at him funny but he hadnt noticed. She was sure that she had heard him say something about the sun. She started to follow him back towards town. Her tears had stopped but she couldn't help thinking that all of this was a lot stranger and harder than she ever could have imagined.

As if on cue, Malachai slowed his pace and took one of her hands with his. He clasped it tightly in a possessive way that she didn't entirely mind.

Okay, guys...I warned you this would be short. Next chap should be up within a week or so. Promise) R&R please!


	6. Breakdown

I'm sorry that this has taken so long, but please enjoy!

Burnin for You

Blue Oyster Cult

Home in the valley

Home in the city

Home isn't pretty

Aint no home for me

Home in the darkness

Home on the highway

Home isn't my way

Home I'll never be

Burn out the day

Burn out the night

I can't see no reason to put up a fight

I'm livin' for givin' the devil his due

And I'm burnin', I'm burnin' for you

I'm burnin', I'm burnin', I'm burnin' for you

Time is the essence

Time is the season

Time ain't no reason

Time I'll never know

Christine let the stranger lead her, although her stomach again gave the sensation to run. It suddenly occurred to her that the man had never told her his name. She blinked against the sun and looked at him apprehensively. He didnt look back at her as they stepped in and out between the weed clogged tracks. "Uhm...you never did tell me your name..." she said weakly. Malachai didn't react immediately. They were reaching town when he gently pulled her to the left, away from town, and into a nearby cornfield. Christine's intuition kicked in and she pulled away from him so fast, he didn't have a chance to catch her arm. Her frightened eyes observed him. "Where are you taking me?" she whispered. Christine reflected on this for a split moment; how he could make her feel so inferior that she barely raised her voice to him. Malachai turned around slowly and looked at her. Christine felt herself involuntarily shiver. "My name is not important right now. But I have a question for you..." Malachai's voice drifted to her on the breeze. In the cornfield, it was much darker...the corn towered at least two feet over her head, blocking out most of the light and it gave the man's face a shadowed menacing look. And in these cornfields, just like in the movies, no one would hear her scream. Christine swallowed hard. She tried to tell herself that she would not allow fear to creep into her voice. "What?", she asked almost normally. The man's face smirked slightly. It was only somewhat visible, but she had caught it before it had faded. He stepped closer to her. She didn't move. She didn't dare. 'That's good', Malachai thought to himself. It seemed impossible, but as he came closer, his eyes seemed to glow. Christine gasped, expecting him to grab her, but couldn't tear her eyes from his. He reached up and seized her chin. "Do you trust me? Tell me now...or I tell you no more..." he hissed. She felt tears sting her eyes and threaten to spill over in a river of fear, hate, and confusion. Her body threatened to give out beneath her and alleve her of any control over the situation. Christine pushed the tears back and stared blankly back at him, wondering what to do. He was staring at her, waiting impatiently for an answer. She wished she had never come to this god-forsaken town. But she nodded. He smiled sweetly. "That's good. We have an understanding." Malachai whispered menacingly. Malachai moved his face closer to hers and she thought she would faint. He slowly brushed his lips against hers. His breathing caused her lips to tremble. Malachai pulled away quickly as if he had been burnt, then licked his lips. His eyes left hers for a moment to look at her lips and then back up to her. "Not yet...", his voice was loud in the silence around them, "It isn't time..." He pulled her along more roughly and more deeply into the cornfield.

They entered a clearing where there was a huge bonfire. There were about 12 children ranging in ages from a year and a half to... _'the age of favor'_ something whispered in her mind.

Where had that thought come from? The fact that it hadn't even been her own voice brought her no closer to finding it's origin. The sight of seeing all of the children made her vision blur with something rivaling rememberence as the two scenes became transparent of each other. As her eyes focused once more, Christine honed in on something so unsuspectfully frightening that her throat felt as if it might choke her of its own volition. Other than she and the man at her side, there was no other adult in sight. Deja Vu threatened faintingly. 'Age of Favor?', she was somewhat relieved to hear her own mind wondering. It seemed familiar to her; and obviously it meant the oldest among the group before her. 'But what the hell is it supposed to mean?', her mind whispered helpless and impatient. Christine pushed the thought away and noticed the others watching her intently. The man was also looking at her almost amusedly as she took all of this in. She had a feeling he either knew all that she had just thought or he was causing it. That just wasn't possible...was it?

It has been said that when the mind is under much duress, deliriousness and hysterics try to take control of the conscious level in the mind. Dependent on willpower, subtle hints can still be exposed. Such things were about to happen. A dawning came over Christine's thoughts..or maybe it was better called a darkening. 'Oh my God...its a new group of Charles Manson and his followers gone hillbilly.' she thought amusedly and insane laughter surfaced to her lips, but she managed to keep it back. The man led her closer to the group. The children eyed her suspiciously and seemed timid in the presence of the man. "This is Christine," he spoke authoritively, "She was once one of us..and has returned." Malachai touched her shoulder. His words were enough to make her stand up straight immediately. Although she was close to almost losing it a moment ago, she knew she hadn't imagined him addressing the children with her name. She licked her suddenly too dry lips and stole a glance in the man's direction. He was still looking at the children, maybe waiting for a response but there was none. '_There's nothing to be afraid of...you've come home..._', the other voice whispered in her mind. It made her shiver and shake her head slightly. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. It was a deep, rough...gravely voice with a sickeningly sweet undertone that seemed to be a relentless combination of an encyclopedia and self-help book in one. Before another destructive thought could cross her mind, Malachai had taken her hand. The children's faces had relaxed a little.

Malachai raised his other hand and motioned with two fingers for no one in particular to come forward, but two older teenage boys emerged from the group. Both of them appeared to be about 17 years of age, quite muscular, tall, and dressed in hand-me-down clothes simular in fashion to that the man was wearing, only that was where the simularities ended. One of them had long dark hair and piercing blue eyes that she wouldnt meet again once she saw them. The other had shaggy blond hair, green eyes, and he was looking at her as if he were just waiting for the man to issue an order to seize her just so he could touch her. '_Adam and Luke look to be pretty good soldiers, don'tcha think?_', the sinister voice whispered. 'Shut up and leave me alone.', Christine hissed to the companion who now shared her brain. She looked up and met the eyes of Adam. How had she known which was which? 'Take a guess.', she told herself. It didn't take long to look away from that blue gaze that might consume her. "These two are my oldest and most trusted friends. Never cross them. Or me.", Malachai said to her and reached out and joined her hand with Adam's. His hand was cold and strong. She would have jerked it away, but thought better of it. "Adam, this is Christine. You will protect her with your life." Malachai said solemnly. He still would not look at her. Instead of shaking her hand, like she had somehow expected, he raised her hand to his lips. She couldn't help but let him, spellbound. There was no other explanation for it, she told herself later. She also couldn't help looking into his eyes. It was like she might drowned in them...and if she let herself do that, what would happen to her? At any rate, reality was not an option right now, so she found herself not wanting to know as a result and tore her eyes away. Adam let her hand drop and nodded to Malachai and then winked to her. Her bones instantaneously became glistened with ice until he turned to leave.

Luke came forward next. That crazed look had not left his face. Malachai cleared his throat and got his attention. Malachai reached out and took Luke's hand, joining it with Christine's. His grasp was sweaty and hot. It reminded her of checking her oil too soon after driving her car and a splash of oil dripping onto her hand. Just as warm, just as greasy. Finally, a sane thought. Reality hit home fast...too fast. This time she did jerk her hand away before the man even had the chance to introduce them formally. Luke looked at her stunned, but Malachai hadn't even flinched, as if he had been expecting it sooner. The man looked down at her reassuringly now. "It's not wrong to feel fear...fear is one of our most primal emotions...though you need not fear them unnessasarily...they are a part of you...just as you are a part of us." the man told her soothingly. It was too late. Christine had already heard enough to make her go back to seeing a psychiatrist like she had had to after she had moved out on her own. She started to back away from them slowly, unknowingly shaking her head again. Adam and Luke started towards her, but Malachai motioned them away. He moved towards her and took her hand again, stopping her. He was looking at her coldly. "Don't think of leaving; they will find you.", Malachai motioned over his shoulder with his head to Adam and Luke, "You are overwhelmed...tired...the sun is setting...you must rest...there are things I must discuss with the others...go back to the house...in the morning, you will understand things better." With that, he released her. Christine stood for a moment, in confusion...and utter panic. She knew better than to run. That would only provoke them. Malachai turned away from her and was talking quietly with Adam and Luke. The other children were leaving at the opposite end of the clearing. Christine walked slowly back into the corn...but not before she heard two other names mentioned from the man's voice. Sarah and Job.

The light was leaving the sky quickly now. Only the purple and red streaks were left to caress the horizon. Christine found her way back to the railroad tracks and followed them towards town. She didn't care what threats the man had laid upon her, she wasn't going to stay here for another minute. If she left in a different direction of town, it might be possible that she could escape. She descended upon downtown again and the sight of her car made her stomach turn. She was going to have to walk it. A soft reddish glow coated everything, but it was enough to twinkle off of a slumbering piece of metal. About half a block away, there was the front end of a car's headlights poking discreetly out of an open decaying building that looked like it might have once been a car service station. Christine's heart lept with exhausted emotional relief and she started to run towards it. Even if there weren't keys, she could try to hotwire it and get the hell out of dodge. She stopped short at the entrance and let out a gasp that was more like an exasperated, tearful groan. This car, too, had been sabotaged just as her's had.

The light deserted her and left the lonely, isolated town of Gatlin in darkness. The wind has died down considerably since her entrance into town, but the breeze caused the rustling of the corn to whisper to her. She couldn't understand what it was saying, but it had the same mocking, gravely voice as the one that plagued her earlier. Christine let herself fall to her knees and bow her head. Why had she come here? Couldn't she have trusted her mother when she had, more or less, told her to leave well enough alone? Silent tears coursed down her face as the thoughts punished her more and more. And when the self-beating was done, came the questions. How had he known her name? Who was whispering things to her?And what the hell had he meant by 'It wasn't time yet?' Slowly, she got to her feet again. She looked over in the direction of the house and wondered if she would be better off with a good night's sleep. She probably wouldn't make it very far if she didn't and they would find her as the man had said. She would leave early in the morning even before they awoke. Christine walked towards the house again, but this time she felt as if she were being watched by eyes unseen...

Hope you all enjoyed and thanks to everyone for being so patient! I also want to take the opportunity to thank everyone who has read and reviewed this story. You are the reason the story is still going!


	7. Chapter 7

She's an extraordinary girl

Green Day

In an ordinary world

And she can't seem to get away

he lacks the courage in his mind

like a child left behind

like a pet left in the rain

She's all alone again

wiping the tears from her eyes

some days he feels like dying

She gets so sick of crying

she sees the mirror of herself

an image she wants to sell

to anyone willing to buy

he steals the image in her kiss

from her heart's apocolypse

from the one called whatsername

She's all alone again

wiping the tears from her eyes

somedays he feels like dying

somedays its not worth trying

now that they both are finding

she gets so sick of crying...

Darkness fell quickly to a black abyss thanks to the failure of electricity all around. Christine approached the house in a steady walk-run, trying to ignore the whispers she didn't want to take the time to understand, on the night breeze. A faint glow, soft yet brilliant in the nothingness, assaulted her eyes and senses, from an upstairs window. She stopped abruptly and almost tripped over her own feet. The man had told her that no one lived here anymore and there had been no sign of habitation when she had been here earlier. Was it him? Waiting for her? Christine cursed under her breath at this fine prediciment. What was she supposed to do now? If she went ahead into the house, he might be inside. If she tried to flee, he might become suspicious that she hadn't shown up at the house and come looking for her...or worse, send his friends after her. Then a thought struck her so suddenly that she only justified its simplicity not occuring to her sooner because of the day's events. She could go to the house she had lived in! She would not entertain the idea that someone might possibly be there too...

There was a quiet rustling in the cornfield across the gravel driveway...

Christine narrowed her eyes slightly and stared back at it...not realizing that she was being watched and had heard movement amongst the rows...but instead believing that it had been the corn whispering mockingly at her entrapment. She hated that voice on the wind even more than she hated it invading her thoughts. Christine glared at the waving field.

Adam watched her, smirking. He hadn't been blessed with the ability to read her thoughts as Malachai had, but he didn't need to. He could feel her fear and sense her anger. But it didn't matter. She had foolishly come back and He didn't intend to let her get away again. Adam readied himself for the chase that he thought soon would entail. But Christine wasn't planning on running. Though she didn't want to, she knew she would have to cut through the cornfield. She steadily started to walk into it. It was amazing not only how she had known what house the man had told her aout when she had first met him, but she was pretty sure, even in the darkness, she would be able to find her grandmother's house and yet everything else she couldn't exactly remember about this place seemed to elude her. Adam stood perfectly still and silent, patiently watching Christine enter the field.

The stalks seemed to be leaning away from her, letting her through...guiding her...Adam followed her quietly only a few feet from her at any given time. He remembered the other warning Malachai had placed upon him and Luke. They were not to harm her and they were not to lay a hand on her unless it was necessary.

Christine hesitated once a little ways into the corn. She had never wanted to run so bad in her whole life, not even when she had been in the clearing. Something was wrong here. Terribly wrong. She wasn't just pushing the corn aside as she walked..it was moving for her. And where was it trying to lead her? Another rustling that startled both her and Adam. Both knew they hadn't made the sounds. "Who's there?", Christine called out timidly. Both listened for a response.

A hand fell on Adam's shoulder and it was all he could do not to jump up and attack its owner. Luke's eyes reflected the moonlight as they leveled with Adam's. Adam looked over quickly to where Christine had stood and saw that she was walking again. He turned back to Luke, impatient. "What is it?", he hissed quietly. The girl was getting farther away now and he couldn't follow her with Luke stomping along beside him. Somehow he had never learned to be as stealthy as he and Malachai were legendary for.

Luke observed him cautiously for a moment. "Malachai has been waiting for you for over an hour...he's waiting." Adam strained to see the girl and could not now. "I have to follow her...", Adam protested, letting his voice raise slightly. Before Luke could reply, Adam was brushing past him, but looked back at him. "I have to see where she is going...she hasn't spoken with Sarah and Job and I haven't seen what they are up to, so go back to their house and see what you can find out...if you get back to Malachai before I do, tell him I am still following her." Adam darted off quickly and silently.

Luke started to chew part of his lower lip in defiant thought. He didn't want to waste his time spying on the newcomers. He was tired of taking orders from Adam and Malachai. But if he didn't listen to Adam now and Malachai found out about it, it could mean his head. Huffing gruffly, he turned back in the direction of the house. A dark thought, not for the first time, crossed his mind. They had better keep an eye on her...and not leave him alone with her. Because if they did, deep in his heart he resented Malachai so much, he would take Christine first and therefor take His power from him.

It didn't take long for Adam to catch up with her...she hadn't gotten too far. He was getting so close to her now, in fact, that he could reach out and touch her if he wanted. And as much as he wanted to, he knew better. She had stopped again..and was looking at something. Adam followed her gaze. Before them was a white house...extremely rundown, but it still looked solid enough. He knew he couldn't let her go in there...Malachai would go mad. He looked back at her. He knew he didn't have much time.

A white hand emerged from the row Christine was standing in, behind her. Adam reached up and touched her long blond hair. Christine suddenly felt dizzy, like she had at the cafe. Adam came into the row behind her. She took a step forward and then stumbled backward, closing her eyes. She knew she was going to faint, but couldn't help it. Adam came behind her knowing this, and smiling slowly.

Just before she fainted, that gravely voice visited her one more time...'_Home Sweet Home_...', it laughed mockingly. Adam caught her as her knees buckled and picked her up. He looked down at her innocent face for a long time. Malachai's voice rung in his head, "Do not harm her...", but Malachai was not here. Adam bent down gently to kiss her lips, her back arching as he tried to pull her unconscious body closer. Awkwardly, he managed to kiss her, but he quickly dropped her as the corn repeatedly whipped him, almost as a punishment for his act. Adam thought of abandoning her, but knew he would face something much worse if he did. Sweating profusely from fear, Adam scooped Christine up and threw her limp body over his shoulder, heading for the clearing.

Luke was heading back to the house of the interlopers, where Sarah and Job had been raised for the most part. Upstairs, where Christine, Adam, and Luke had seen the light, Luke now saw two shadowy figures passing back and forth through the master bedroom window. Luke's eyes trailed from the lit window to one only feet away next to it. A slightly rusted, shaky drainspout ran up the middle of the windows. A sly smile surfaced briefly on Luke's lips as he began to take hold of the pipe and inch his way up the side of the house.

Sarah and Job froze in place, both thinking they had heard something outside. Their frightened gazes locked, unsure if they had actually heard something and confirming it within seconds. Job moved slowly to the window, but the darkness had blanketed everything and made it impossible to make out anything. He turned back to Sarah and shrugged. "But we better hurry...I don't want to confront them tonight.", Job whispered. He closed the book he had been examining and tucked it under his arm. Sarah folded the newspaper page she had been reading and put it in her pocket. Luke's foot suddenly slipped, making a loud clang against the house, before sending him tumbling to the ground below. Sarah and Job, without saying a word to one another, bolted from the room and out of the house as fast as they could. A dazed Luke, watched from the thorny berry bushes which had broken his fall, as the two intruders ran off down the gravel driveway. He wanted to scream in frustration, but something caught his attention, muting him. Job was carrying something under his arm...it looked like a book. Luke squinted his eyes closed. Telling Malachai would not be pretty...

Adam entered the clearing, constantly looking around, feeling as if he had been followed the entire way. "Malachai...", Adam called out, "I found her trying to escape...I brought her back..." Malachai emerged from the shadows of the wooden crosses at the far end of the clearing, smiling sheepishly. He Who Walks Behind The Rows had whispered to him of Adam's betrayal...and to think, Adam had the audacity to appear before him like nothing had happened. Rage creapt into Malachai's stomach as Adam's eyes met his. Adam instantly knew that he had been found out. He laid Christine down at Malachai's feet. Christine stirred slightly but did not awake. Adam took a tenative step back. Malachai watched his cautious actions, amused with himself. He looked down at Christine, faning only half-interest in her sleeping form and yet mentally taking inventory of any lesions or bruises, and then back at his closest friend. He managed to maintain an even tone. "What was said between her and the other two?", Malachai watched Adam's reaction like a snake.

Adam flinched, not expecting a question, but a few short words before Malachai's knife pierced him. Maybe he didn't know. Maybe Malachai was only testing him to see if something had happened. Adam swallowed stiffly and cleared his throat. "I followed her to the house. She hesitated when there was a light in the upstairs window. She retreated into the corn and I followed her still. Luke found me and told me you were waiting. I sent him back to the house, to spy on Sarah and Job. I kept following her...and...and...", Adam didn't know how to continue. Malachai was not going to take it well that she had remembered where she lived. He felt his gaze burning into him. "And?", Malachai urged impatiently. Adam looked away and then down at Christine. If he didn't tell Malachai, surely she would once she awoke. "She...she...went directly to her grandmother's house...", Adam replied weakly. He didn't like to feel inferior to Malachai, but he didn't care much for his wrath either.

Malachai turned away and took a few step from them. He was silent for a moment, his anger with Adam temporarily forgotten. Christine had remembered something substancial. The place of her childhood...if she could remember that, she would soon remember more...and then she would understand what had brought her back. Malachai whipped around suddenly. Adam reacted, startled. "Did you let her enter?", Malachai asked, already knowing the answer. Adam blinked hesitantly before answering. "No...that is why she is sleeping. I knew you wouldn't want her in that shack." Malachai looked again to Christine...she stirred again, but again did not awake. It was as if she could feel his eyes on her.

Adam looked at Malachai apprehensively. Malachai slowly looked up at Adam. Before Malachai could say a word, there was a soft, rasping whisper from the ground. "No...", Christine whispered hoarsely, voice choked with sleep. Malachai and Adam both directed their attention to the her. She was still asleep. Malachai tried to hone in on her thoughts and found that his abilities had been blocked. Adam watched her in awe, wondering if he had caused this sudden outburst. Malachai had no choice but to listen closely to figure out what she was dreaming. "Malachai...", she hissed seethingly and then was silent. Without even looking at Malachai, Adam drew in a ragged breath. "Oh my God...", he said lowly. The same thought ran through both their minds. Christine was remembering more than they both had bargained for...or it was being revealed to her...by He Who Walks Behind The Rows...

"Noooo...", Christine screamed, loud enough to wake her from her slumber, and send her sitting straight up with her legs straight out in front of her. She looked confused, turning her head quickly around as she scanned her surroundings, wondering how she had gotten here, finally fixing her gaze on Malachai. "You have seen Him haven't you?", he asked. "Yes...", Christine whispered, knowing that he was referencing to the dark figure that had just penetrated her dreams, "Who, or what, is He?", she asked. Malachai paused for a moment, this question bringing an evil smirk to his lips as he replied. "You will find out in time", Malachai turned back to Adam, who took a step back still anticipating some sort of punishment for his earlier actions, "Go now and leave us. Do not return until morning, at which time bring the others", Malachai looked back to Christine with a cold gaze and still speaking to Adam said, "There will be news for all to hear tomorrow." Adam was all too happy to oblidge, getting off this easily, and disappeared into the corn.

Christine watched Malachai untrustingly as he stepped closer, squatting down before her. He started to raise his right hand. Christine flinched, expecting to feel the backside of his hand lash across her face as repayment for her attempt to flee, but instead she felt the gentle touch of his hand brushing the hair back from her face. His hand slid down to her chin, cupping it, turning her head side to side as if examining her. Christine's lower lip quivered, she was trying as hard as she could to hide her fear. Malachai's eyes seized hers and wouldn't drop. "Don't be afraid...", Malachai whispered, "He loves you. He will not let any harm come to you, as long as you love Him too..." Malachai let his eyes drop to her lips. He looked back up at her and leaned in, kissing her. He pulled away when she did not return his kiss. His eyes burned into hers once more and he kissed her again. Christine submitted to the kiss, not knowing what he might do if she resisted him again. Her mind raced as one emotion bled into another. Repulsion. Lust. Hatred. Love. As if she were battling her own emotions with some controlling outside force. Malachai wondered if she knew exactly who she was dealing with...she had uttered his name. It didn't matter. She would soon be his and the prophecy would be fullfilled. Slowly, the bittersweet poison of Malachai's kiss became too much for her to want to resist.

As he was lowering her back to the ground, still kissing her, Luke spilled into the cornfield...

A/N: I want to thank everyone for their patience for this chapter and special thanks to fellow author, Maddhatter, who helped me with the inspiration of this chapter also.


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